


The Road so Far

by lucifersshroud



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cissexism, F/M, Gen, Self Harm, Suicide, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 03:46:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucifersshroud/pseuds/lucifersshroud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You’re five years old, and Dean is the first one you tell. He laughs, messes up your hair, and pulls you in for a hug. <br/>“Okay, Sammy. Or, do you want a different name now too?” he asks. You shake your head.<br/>“Sammy’s okay. And so is Sam. Just no more Samantha.” You reply. He nods. <br/>“Sounds good to me, little brother.” You’re positively beaming at him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Road so Far

**Author's Note:**

> so, there's no real structure for this. i just really, really wanted to write ftm!sam and this has been sitting in my documents for months so i just polished it, added a bit more and yeah. the timeline goes up to s5 because i didn't feel like writing more for it.

You don’t tell Dad until a few weeks later. He’s actually been around for more than three days at a time, so you figure he won’t be too mad.

You’re wrong.

“No. No, I won’t have this. You’re my baby girl, my baby Samantha and that’s who you’ll always be. Don’t ever bring this up again. Do you understand?!”

Your lower lip trembles, but you don’t cry until he leaves later that day. 

Dean holds you and tells you that it’ll be all right. That Dad’ll come around, and even if he doesn’t, you’ll still always be his baby brother to him.

You fall asleep in his arms.

\--

Dad takes the first step when you’re thirteen and notices the cuts on your arms. Rather, Dean notices them and blames Dad. You don’t remember the two ever having a more heated argument.

“This is your fault! You force him to dress and act like a girl and he hates it! He hates every single moment of it, and he hates himself because of _you_!”

“Dean, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Sam will grow out of this by the time she’s an adult, so just leave it alone!”

“No, I will not just leave it alone! Not when I’m the one hearing him cry himself to sleep! Not when I’m the one banging on the goddamn bathroom door, always one step away from saying screw the security deposit and breaking it down because I _know_ what he’s doing in there! Not when I’m the one that actually listens to him when he talks about how much he hates himself and wishes he could just actually look like the boy that he damn well knows he is. You just refuse to see it because you’re so stuck in your old fashioned out of date ways. Wake up! You have two sons, not a son and a daughter. Sam is my brother, and nothing you can say or do will convince me or him otherwise.”

A long silence is held after that. The only sound you can hear is the sound of your nails picking at your newer cuts. Though you feel that more than you hear it.

“I don’t deny it because I’m some old fashioned hick. I deny it because it’s impossible for her to have any of the therapy needed so she can have hormones, and because we’ll never have enough money for her to have any sort of surgery for it if that’s what she wants. Not with the way we live. I deny it because I can’t bring myself to think that my baby girl will never be truly happy with herself in this lifestyle.”

More silence, yet you’re not as bothered by it due to the fact that you’re holding back a waterfall of tears. A door slams. You hear a knock.

“I know you’re in there, Sam. Open the door.” Dean pounds harder on the door. You whimper then break, bursting into tears. He’s still slamming on the door, or maybe it’s simply the blood rushing and pounding in your head. You take the knife you hide under your pillow for protection out from in your jacket. Soon, crimson drips onto the floor, and you feel yourself going completely numb. A hint of a smile graces your features.

\--

Dad finally starts to acknowledge the fact that you’re a boy when you try to kill yourself for the first and only time at seventeen. Truth be told, you weren’t planning on committing suicide at first. But as you cut and cut, you find that you really don’t want to stop until you physically cannot cut anymore, so that’s what you do.

When you wake up in the hospital, Dean’s face is the first thing you see. You’ve never seen him look so terrified. After everything both of you have seen, and what you’re sure he’s seen without you countless times, that’s definitely saying something. Suddenly you feel awful for trying in the first place.

“Dean, I’m so so--”

“Shh.” He grabs your hand and squeezes it. “Don’t you dare apologize to me for that. Don’t you dare.” His lip trembles. You can tell he’s trying not to cry, but you don’t mention it. You simply give your brother a small smile and nod.

“Okay, Dean.” A few of his tears fall.

“I love you, Sam.” You lift a shaking hand up to brush some of them off his cheek.

“I love you too.”

His cries silence immediately when Dad enters the room. He’s in terrible agony. Dean grips your hand even tighter. Dad sighs. “I’m so sorry, boys. For everything.”

No one speaks for at least a full minute. Then you start to sob.

\--

Dad is fuming when he returns from getting your mail out of your PO Box. He shoves a letter in your hand. You stumble back a bit, in shock at his forcefulness. You look up at him, hurt. He points at the letter, facial expression unmoving. You look down and your heart nearly stops. It’s from Stanford, already very crudely ripped open. You bite your lip, trembling all over as you take out the letter and unfold it. Your eyes widen as you skim it.

“I got in!” you exclaim before you know what you’re saying. Slowly, your eyes travel up to your father. His expression is still the same. You can’t even bring yourself to look at Dean yet. Finally, Dad’s face moves, but it’s into a sarcastic grin, so it’s not much better. He even claps a little.

“Congratulations, Sam! You can screw off to college and abandon your family now like I’m sure you’ve wanted to do for years!” he shouts. You wince, but regain your composure fairly quickly.

“I’m not abandoning you. I’m actually trying to live my life! Where are we in finding the demon that killed Mom, huh? Nowhere! We have no idea where that thing is, and I’m sick of this. I’m sick of moving around all the time and living in cheap motels and eating nothing but chips for dinner! I want to actually make something of my life.” You counter. Dean actually responds, so you’re compelled to look over at him. Your heart breaks. He looks absolutely shattered.

“You are making something of your life, Sam. You’re saving people’s lives, and you’re with your family. What more could you want?” he says.

“Honestly? I want stability. You know, a normal life, where I go to school and get a job, and maybe meet someone along the way that I can share my life with.” Your dad laughs.

“You? A normal life? You’ll never have a normal life, not with how you are! Do you _know_ how transgender people are treated in this country? Even if you do stop hunting with us, you’ll still be rated as a freak by everyone else!” It’s a low blow, and he knows it right as it comes out of his mouth if the immediate regret on his face is anything to go by. You’re shaking in fury now and you scream at the top of your lungs.

“Well, maybe that’s another reason I want to leave! Because even if I’ll still be a second class citizen, at least I won’t be a freak that kills monsters with his freakish family. I’ll just be a freak in general!”

“Sam, you know I didn’t mean—”

“Yes you did. Yes you damn well did. And you know what? Screw you. I’ll be that freak. I’ll _proudly_ be that freak. I’m gonna go off to college and be the best freak I can be. I’ll even actually medically transition if I can manage it, since with this crap life, I’ll never have _that._ ”

Neither Dad, nor your brother, responds. You don’t wait for any answer. You simply turn and start to walk towards the Greyhound station you know you saw around this area driving around earlier. It’s then they both decide to start yelling after you, begging you to come back, apologizing, and then after all that, you hear your dad loud and clear.

“If you leave now, you don’t come back!”

You stop for a moment and turn around to get one last good look at them. They think you’re coming back, but you only give them a wave, and walk off.

\--

“Dad’s on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a few days.”

Your heart drops, or perhaps leaps into your throat. You can’t really tell. You gulp. “Jess, excuse us.”

After everything, you’re sucked back in. After being top of the class, finding the greatest girl in the world, almost free of what felt like a distant nightmare, and you’re back in. Sitting in the car with your brother, speeding down some interstate in Jericho.

“So, Sammy. I see you got on those hormones. Either that or somethin’s in the water at Stanford.” He laughs and glances over at you uneasily. You only stare. He frowns, turning back to the road. “C’mon, I know this sucks, but we gotta find Dad. Might as well catch up.” he says. He takes in a deep breath. “Did you even miss me at all, Sammy?” he asks.

You stare straight ahead of you, determined not to let how torn you are shown. “It’s Sam now, Dean. I’m not twelve years old.” You tell him. You find yourself looking over at him and feel a slight pang of remorse. “And yes, I did miss you.”

He smiles, eyes on the road. “I missed you too, little brother.”

Even after all this time, hearing him call you that still causes you to grin.

“I’ve been on hormones for eleven months, by the way. Jess and I both pay for it. She’s been my rock since I got to Stanford.” You hear yourself saying to him.

He chuckles, and messes up your hair. “That’s m’boy.”

You don’t tell him, but you really missed him calling you that too.

\--

Jess is dead. Your Jess is dead, killed in the same gruesome way as your mother. You’re completely numb. Everything you’ve made for yourself in the past two years is gone, just like that. Screw your interview. Screw your other friends. You’re done. You’re finding this demon and you’re killing it, preferably in the most agonizing way possible, so it can feel what you feel. You throw your gun in the trunk. Dean’s concerned, but you’re not. “We got work to do.”

\--

You find Dad, but he tells you to stay away. You’re standing your ground, though, insisting that you’re told everything, considering it’s become intimately more personal for you at this point as well as him. He relents, lets you come along. It ends in disaster for everyone.

Before Meg’s thrown out the window, though, she says something that sticks with you. Just before you break free, while she’s being all grossly seductive, she whispers in your ear.

“He can give you what you truly want, Sam. He can make you normal. If you just let him.”

She’s not given the chance to say anything else. After, Dean lingers and turns to you. “What’d she say to you?”

You stare down at her mangled body and shake your head, expressionless. “Nothing.”

You’re pretty sure it’s the first time you’ve lied about something so incredibly important to your brother.

\--

Dad’s on the floor, and so is your coffee.

Dad’s dead, and you’re not entirely sure how to feel about it. Your mind’s more of a mess than it usually is. Dean is holding back tears. You take a deep breath and pull at your chest binder. Ever since you bought a proper one, messing with it has become something you just do when you feel like you’re about to panic. Your hands start trembling violently, though, and you’re unable to even do that.

So you simply pull Dean into your arms and attempt to hold him. He has you in a death grip, face buried in your shoulder (you’re taller than him now), and shaking possibly harder than you are.

You stare blankly ahead, wondering how everything in the world can be so wrong.

\--

When you learn about crossroad demons, the idea seems appealing for a moment. Being off of your hormones so long is starting to have noticeable effect, and you’re desperate.

“Don’t even think about it.” You chuckle. Dean knows you so well.

“I won’t do that. Promise.” His gaze is piercing.

“Good. If you do, you won’t get ten years, cause I’ll kill you, myself.” You smile.

“No you won’t.”

“No, I wouldn’t. But I would kick your ass.” He punches your arm playfully.

\--

You’re dreaming. You know it because _he’s_ here, and he can’t have found you yet, so he chooses the next best option, getting inside your head. You scowl at him.

“Go away. Wake me up.” He smirks.

“You’re not gonna get away from me that easily, Sammy.”

“I figured as much. What do you want now?” He shrugs, leaning against the wall. You take the time to notice that you’re in the same place you were last time you had a dream with Yellow Eyes in it, your old bedroom.

“Just wanted to see if maybe I could persuade you to come on our side with something a little sweeter than just all the power I talked about last time.” he responds. You gulp. You already know where this is going.

“I know what you’re going to offer, and my answer is still no.” He sighs.

“Oh, Sam. If only you knew how wonderful things could be if you just let me find you.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want it. Not at the expense of innocent people.” He’s smirking again.

“Innocent people? You sure you want to call them that, when people like you are killed on a daily basis by these so called _innocent_ people?”

You bite your lip, gaze dropping to the floor. You’re not going to cave. You’re not. You take a deep breath then look back up at him right in his disgusting, yellow eyes.

“Screw you.” He rolls his eyes.

“You’ll give in at some point, Sam.” He says.

You’re about to respond with something even less courteous than “screw you,” but you’re pulled out of the dream and wake up violently shooting up in another uncomfortable motel bed, gasping. You look at the bed opposite. Dean’s snoring soundly. You breathe a sigh of relief.

That’s the second major thing you lie to your brother about. Though you suppose it’s not really lying if you simply don’t tell him anything.

\--

Azazel’s dead. You’ve witnessed your father walking out of the gates of Hell. To top it all off, you’ve just found out that your brother has sold his soul in exchange for your life. You have no idea what your emotions are doing, but anger plays a big part, you think, because you’re screaming at Dean.

“Oh, so you’re allowed to give up _your_ soul to get me back, but I’m not allowed to give up mine for the one thing that will actually make me truly happy?!”

“You know it’s not like that, Sammy. I just… I didn’t know what else to do! I can’t live without you!”

“And you expect me to live without you?”

Dean’s expression turns to one of anguish after you say this.

“Yes, Sam. I expect you to live your life how you want to, free of all this crap. Go back to school, get back on hormones, maybe even get surgery one day!”

You shake your head.

“There’s no going back, Dean. Not now.”

He doesn’t respond. When it’s evident that he has nothing to say to that, you sigh.

“How long do you get?”

He bites his lip.

“A year.”

Your whole world crashes down before you.

\--

Ruby is patronizing you again.

“You’re thinking about it again.” She says while dragging her magic demon killing knife that isn’t supposed to exist out of another bloody body. You don’t reply. She rolls her eyes.

“Well, of course I am. Dean doesn’t have that much time and I’m just so done with this. He’s gonna die, so what’s it so him if I sell off my soul so I don’t have to deal with this nightmare?”

She steps over the dead body and is right in front of you now, staring you down.

“Because you promised him, and because I’m not saving your ass all the time just for you to sell your soul so you can get a dick.”

You laugh, a bit hysterically. “You think that’s all it’s about? Just wanting a dick? That’s not even close to it. It’s so I don’t look in the mirror every day and despise what I see. It’s so I don’t feel completely unsafe in any of those grubby bars Dean and I go to. It’s so I’m able to actually feel all right in my own skin, instead of wanting to crawl out of it all the time. It’s so I can be treated like a decent human being in society, instead of simply an _other._ ”

She rolls her eyes again.

“Cry me a river. That’s nothing compared to Hell. All Hell is, is blood, pain, and misery. For all eternity.” You’re laughing again.

“You say that as if that’s not already my daily life. Look in front of me for the blood part! As for the pain--” You pull back the sleeves of your jacket, revealing faded scars up and down both of your arms, “—I’m pretty used to that, and misery? Don’t even get me started on misery. My whole damn life is just a pathetic bucket of misery.”

Her gaze is almost sympathetic. She walks out the door without another word.

\--

Dean is gone. Your brother, your best friend, your _soul mate,_ is gone, and he’s not coming back. The one person who always accepted you without a second thought, without even the usual stupid question (most of the time just a snarky comment you’d roll your eyes at). The one who was always there for you, no questions asked. No explanations needed. He was just there to cry on, to hold you, to listen to you scream, to clean you up after you mutilated yourself, and to just in general be around as his sarcastic, obnoxious self that you adore so completely and utterly.

But he’s gone now.

You just saw him get ripped to shreds by hell hounds.

You’re clutching his body and sobbing your eyes out and for the first time in your life, you are absolutely clueless as to what to do next with yourself.

\--

It’s been a month since Dean, and you’re on autopilot. During cases, you kill without hesitation and without thought. All of your time in between cases is spent with Ruby, looking for Lilith or drinking demon blood and practicing your powers.

Because, hey, what’s one more reason for you to be considered a freak of nature?

You’re not thinking about that now, though.

Ruby’s fucking you three fingers deep and you’ve got your face in her neck, greedily drinking her blood. When you take enough, you lean back and start thrusting against her fingers, moaning like a whore. Your grip on her hips is bruising, you’re sure, when you come.

And when you’re returning the favor, you’re not thinking about a damn thing other than how beautiful this demon is when she screams your name.

She ruins it though when she starts talking.

“So you gonna at least go back on hormones now that Dean’s gone and you’re really only focused on one job? You could hole up somewhere, find a doctor nearby and do it. I personally wouldn’t object.” She smirks. You roll your eyes and push her off you. Her smirk turns into a frown. “All right, fine, I won’t mention it again.”

She keeps on mentioning it, though, every time you have sex. Soon it becomes such an issue that you just stop having sex all together. You know she’s got good intentions, but you really wish she’d stop asking. It’s not going to happen, not when there’s nothing for you to live for anyway aside from killing Lilith.

\--

Your brother is back. You’re still not entirely sure how, but he’s back, and you can’t be happier. Yet at the same time, you’re incredibly anxious because you have no idea how to go about the subject of your newfound powers.

You’re already enough of a freak. You don’t want to give him more reasons to think of you as one. You know he’s going to find out either way, of course, but you just need to work on how you’re going to tell him.

You don’t get that chance because he does find out a lot sooner than you expected him to. For some reason, you want to blame his newfound angel friend for that. The look on his face when he sees what you’re doing is enough to have your whole soul reeling, but when he says _those_ words, you lose it.

“If I didn’t know you, I’d wanna hunt you.”

For the first time since your suicide attempt, you cut. You cut until you can’t feel a damn thing. Instead of Dean being the one to help you up and hold you, though, it’s Ruby this time. She cleans you up, kisses you, lets you cry on her, even lets you drink some of her blood.

It’s so wrong, so messed up on so many levels, but you don’t know what else to do, or if you really _want_ to find another alternative.

\--

Ruby’s betrayal is bittersweet, but mostly bitter. You trusted her with everything in you. You opened up your _being_ to her in a way you only ever did for Dean and she threw it right back in your face. You should’ve expected it considering she’s a demon.

Heartbreak eats away at you. You’re frantically apologizing to Dean. He’s saying over and over again that it’s okay and you’re going to be okay, but you don’t think either of you actually believes that nonsense. You’re the Winchesters. When are you ever in any sense of the word, okay?

Lucifer rises and somehow you end up on a plane in the midst of it.

\--

Lucifer uses the same tactics as Azazel. For the most part anyway. He tells you that you’d still have to deal with your own body, but instead of despising it all the time like you do now, you’ll love it with him poking and prodding around inside. Somehow you doubt that.

It terrifies you when you threaten to kill yourself and he says, completely nonchalant, he’d just bring you back. You have no control over anything in your life. You can’t even control whether or not you’re alive in the first place.

You’re starting to completely hate angels all together.

\--

Finally Castiel answers the question you’ve been silently asking him for weeks. Ever since he barged into your life, really. He’s just told you to not ask stupid questions. Naturally the urge rises to ask the stupid one you can think of. He speaks before you.

“Before you even start, no.” He pushes himself off you, still reeking of alcohol and flops down onto Dean’s bed.

“Why not?” you find yourself asking. He sighs.

“Because I can’t just magically change your body. I can heal what’s already there and I can rebuild what’s already been sketched out but I can’t just create something completely new. I’m an angel, not God, Himself.”

His explanation makes way too much sense for how drunk he is. You don’t bring up the subject ever again with him.

If you weren’t sure about your hatred for angels before, you’re definitely sure now.

 


End file.
